Shake Up Christmas
by the.terrorist
Summary: Christmas Fic. Sasu/Saku. Wide eyes searched frantically for Naruto in the crowd. He was still grinning, stupidly, brightly, just as he always did, but there was something more, something else in his expression. His blue eyes were sparkling in a way they never had before. "Well?" he yelled. "He's not here for me, Sakura!" So Sakura ran.


"So," Ino started as the two friends waded through the crowd gathered in the large, festive ballroom, some political figures, most shinobi, to attend the Christmas party thrown as part of the winter festival in Konoha.

It wasn't traditional, but the Kages appeared to have all agreed on the fact that, after the terrible way the season had been spent the year before, everybody needed a night to celebrate, relearn what the holiday was about, as well as consolidate, perhaps, the spirit of unity that had brought the countries together during the final battles.

Sakura did appreciate the thought, and she did appreciate the opportunity. After the war and after so much work that had needed to be done to pick up the pieces in the aftermath, she relished having a night to herself, a night where she could curl her hair, put on a nice dress and slip into a pair of high heels and feel like a woman, rather than a warrior.

It was certainly refreshing, and, she thought, maybe exactly what she needed.

"Have you heard from the Uchiha?"

They reached the bar, and as she slid up onto one of the high seats, Sakura resisted the urge to let out a heavy sigh. "I haven't." She spoke softly, steadily, in the same tone as until now, and she was proud of it. She hadn't shown how torn up on the inside she was about this situation, and, these days, she felt that was one of the most important things she could accomplish.

It was, pretty much, what her entire life was about. Waking up in the morning, exhausted, no matter how many hours of sleep she'd had, with dark circles under her eyes, going through the motions of making herself as presentable as possible before leaving for the hospital. Staying there, saving lives and giving smiles and signing her name on stack after stack of paperwork, until late in the night and completely past dinnertime. Returning home to a cold, empty apartment. Barely having any time at all to interact with people other than patients or fellow medics, to find out what was going on outside the walls of the hospital, to meet up and have a cup of tea with a friend every once in a while. Only finding a precious hour every two or three weeks, when old memories were haunting her and torturous thoughts wouldn't let her rest, to dedicate to herself; to sit down at her desk, while the entire village was sleeping, and write pages no one but herself would ever read, words no one but herself would ever understand.

Now, as she sat at the bar with a shot of tequila in front of her, dressed in a long, emerald green dress that she thought no longer characterized the person she had become, as much as she wished it would, Christmas all around her, in the decorations and the smiles and the laughter, part of her longed to tell her best friend the truth. To pull her aside and spill everything that had been haunting her dreams at night.

But she had long ago decided that she needed stop—stop complaining, stop leaning on people, just _stop._

Christmas had never been so bittersweet.

"But _have_ you been talking to him?" the blonde insisted.

"Yeah." Sakura shrugged. "We've… sent some letters back and forth. Naruto and Kakashi did the same."

She'd sent more than just letters. She'd sent little pieces of her heart. She'd sent medicine and small vials, some with poisons, other with antidotes, wanting to help and protect. She'd sent slivers or worry and millions of questions.

_How are you? How have you been doing? Where are you now? Are people treating you well? Is anyone giving you trouble? Have you been fighting? Are you eating well? Are you keeping warm? Are you being safe? _

Or, at least, she _used_ to. Lately, her letters had gotten shorter and shorter, and when she saw that his remained the same size, she finally realized it was because that was the size they had _always_ been.

Sakura had been the happiest woman on Earth in the weeks following the end of the war, despite everything that it entailed, the terrible casualties being counted and the realization of what had been lost, never to be seen again, finally sinking into everybody's minds and hearts. Sasuke was _there_, Sasuke was home, and she'd wanted that for so long, it felt as if she'd wanted it forever.

She'd continued to be happy even after he took off, again, leaving her with a poke on the forehead and another sincere 'thank you'. Leaving her with _hope._

But she supposed the time had finally come when she needed to face the fact that everything she'd thought to be true, everything she'd imagined in the wake of his departure, was just that—imagination; a story made up inside her head. And what better time for that than the upcoming new year?

"Did he say when he was coming back?" Ino pressed.

"No," Sakura answered. "I assume not for a while… He did just return, didn't he?" She tried hard, just as hard as she tried with everything else, to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice, but she didn't know if she succeeded.

She washed the unpleasant taste away with a shot of tequila.

Yes, Sasuke had come back. He'd come back, he'd met up with Kakashi, he'd met up with Naruto, he'd gone to the hospital to have his arm replaced, they'd had ramen together. He'd stayed for an entire week, then he'd left again. And, all of the while, Sakura had been on a mission to Suna.

She didn't think it would have bothered her as much if she hadn't mentioned the assignment in the last letter she'd sent out right before she left.

If that wasn't a big, bold, blazing red sign that he was trying to give her, she didn't know what could be. Obviously, the man regretted giving her hope. He probably hadn't even intended to do that, in the first place; maybe he'd just been trying to be nice and miscalculated what that could do to a lovesick puppy. Or perhaps she _hadn__'__t_ made the entire situation up; perhaps he'd simply decided, casually, on one of his travels, that he didn't actually need the safety net she provided.

Regardless of the reasoning behind his actions, Sakura could take a hint.

She thought that maybe one of these days she should stop sending him letters altogether. It wasn't as if he was doing anything other than answering her questions, anyway.

_One of these days._

Preferably, when she managed to find a way to lessen the pain, some other way than the comforting action of scribbling the familiar letters of his name on a piece of paper.

It hurt. It hurt _so_ much. Every day, it was as if another piece of her heart would break, stabbing her from the inside, fighting its way out. It felt like losing him all over again. Hell, _no_. It felt _worse_, _much_ worse. Before, although she'd tried, although she'd lied to herself, although she'd hoped—so, _so_ hard—Sakura had known, deep inside, that Sasuke didn't care about her. That there really wasn't much she could offer him that he wanted, and even less that he needed. And, without her being aware of it, that had helped in keeping her going after he left or after he said or did something to hurt her.

But this Sasuke… _This_ Sasuke, the Sasuke that he was now… This Sasuke was _healing_. This Sasuke was once again on the right path in life. _This_ Sasuke… had poked her forehead and promised her he'd return.

And, for some silly reason, she'd read between the lines, words that didn't exist, and thought he'd return _to her_.

It appeared as if Sasuke, after all this time, had managed to teach her another valuable life lesson: having her dreams lying there, in a corner of her mind, dusty and unaccomplished, hurt much, _much_ less than having them crushed to tiny little pieces right in front of her watchful eyes.

Sasuke didn't want her. Not really. He'd _never_ wanted her. And she wanted to cry out to the entire world and tell them how foolish she'd been to believe that. She wanted to sob and scream and she wanted to be angry and sad and heartbroken.

But, at the same time, she didn't want to be that woman anymore.

For her own sake, and for the sake of those around her, she needed to grow up, and she needed to _somehow_ make sure that, with or without Sasuke, she would be fine.

And the first step to completing that process was leading her friends to believe it.

She thought she was doing well.

But she supposed the real test would come when Sasuke actually returned. Because, then, she would have to _face_ him. She would have to _see_ him. And she would undoubtedly have to make a very painful decision.

Because, while she would be torn apart beyond repair if he ever was to leave her life for good, she wasn't sure she could have him in it as long as he couldn't give her what she'd always wanted from him.

Perhaps in the future, though, once she became a little more numb to this pain, her perspective would change. One could only hope, she supposed—and that was really all she had left.

"It _is_ Christmas, though."

Sakura resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead drowned another shot of tequila. "It is _Sasuke_, though," she retorted sardonically. She gave her scowling best friend a gently bemused smile, before sliding out of her seat and, with a murmur of an 'I'll see you later' walking away, slipping into the milling crowd again, with no particular destination in her mind.

Her feeble amusement soon fading, she found herself facing the real reason why she'd left. It hadn't been to make a great exit.

She didn't want to keep talking about him anymore.

Catching Tenten's eye in the crowd, she gave a smile and a small wave. In the past months, she'd bonded with the brunette in a manner in which she'd never thought would be possible in such a short time. Tenten had lost the man she loved in the war, and Sakura often felt as if she'd done the same. She'd lost Sasuke and she'd lost everything that had once mattered to her—her hope, her positivity, her innocence. It didn't compare, in reality, it didn't even come _close_, and she well knew it, which was why she made sure to never, ever mention it out loud, but she had a feeling Tenten knew, and she'd accepted it wholeheartedly. She was the one person with whom Sakura knew she could spend time in silence and know that she _understood_. Know that she understood what she was feeling and that she wouldn't attempt to fix it—because she knew it was impossible.

She found comfort in that. So many people constantly tried to tell her what to do and how to feel without really having any idea what they were talking about, and it was incredibly nice to have someone who accepted her pain just the way she had fought to—and who knew how much of an effort that had been and what she'd had to give up to make it happen.

But Tenten was now busy with Lee, and Sakura had promised herself that she would at least make an effort tonight.

Spotting the two large double doors that led to the balcony, she immediately changed her trajectory. There was nothing quite like a little fresh air to clear her mind of unwanted thoughts.

Then she felt something that made her stop dead in her tracks, right there, in the midst of the crowd, in the middle of the ballroom.

At first, she thought she'd imagined it.

But then she felt it again.

Wide eyes searched frantically for Naruto—her teammate, her brother—in the crowd.

They found him at the opposite end of the room, with a beautiful Hinata beside him. He grinned at her, wide and blindingly white, and she got her confirmation.

There was no doubt that he'd felt it, too.

"Hey, Sakura-chan!" he yelled, waving at her happily, his voice carrying across the open space, catching everybody's attention.

But, strangely enough, when she looked around, she saw that no one looked as surprised as she felt.

Her heart skipped a beat, sputtered, and then, she swore, came to a stop.

Her gaze found Naruto's again. He was still grinning, stupidly, brightly, just as he always did, but there was something more, something else in his expression.

His blue eyes were sparkling in a way they never had before.

_It would mean a lot to me if you came home this Christmas._

He was happy for her, so very, _very_ happy. And he was relieved. Relieved in a way that only someone who had suffered by her side all along could be.

_You don__'__t have to, of course. I respect your choice to stay away, and I understand._

And Sakura knew, if there was one person in the world that understood what Sasuke had done to her when he left, that was Naruto.

"Well?" he yelled. "He's not here for me, Sakura."

So Sakura ran. She grabbed the full skirts of her dress in her hands and hurried across the room. The crowd seemed to have parted just for her, but the young medic couldn't process the meaning of that right now. She couldn't process anything other than the corridor in front of her, then the stairs, then the lobby, then the courtyard, cold and windy and covered in snow.

She should have felt ecstatic and she should have probably been crying. But she couldn't. She couldn't feel anything.

Until she laid eyes on him. Through the heavy snowfall, she saw his silhouette. It matched that of his powerful, unmistakable chakra signature.

And everything inside her seemed to collapse. Her lungs, her heart, her resolve, _everything_.

She took off. Through the snow, in her high-heels, with her long dress getting in the way. And she ran towards _him_.

She was already crying when she reached him, barely able to see him through the tears and the white flurry of snowflakes, and she threw herself into his arms, limbs clinging to his neck and around his waist without the intention to ever let go.

And he caught her. He opened his arms and caught her in his embrace, supporting her weight easily, without hesitation.

She'd never felt relief like this before.

"You're here!" she gasped through heavy sobs, pulling back only enough to look at him in the eye. "You came _back_!"

Onyx eyes bored into hers. His voice was raspy when he spoke. "You asked me to."

She cried harder.

He smelled of the forest and he smelled of winter. His slightly longer, messy hair was peppered with white and his cheeks were slightly red from the cold. His eyes were dark and so, _so_ familiar, but soft and calm, peaceful in a way she had never quite seen them before.

But he was Sasuke and he was home and he had his arms around her and—was she _dreaming_?

"Don't cry," he requested, sounded mildly amused, when she sobbed again.

She gasped for breath, and, impulsively, pressed her lips to his in a small, chaste kiss, filled with hardly any passion; her hopes and dreams and pain and gratitude and love, _so much love_, took up all the space.

"Stay," she begged, eyes closed, forehead pressed against his. "_Please_ stay."

She didn't care if she was dreaming. She didn't care if she wasn't, and if she'd completely misinterpreted the reason behind his return, again. She didn't care if she hadn't heard him right, she didn't care if he wasn't truly there for her, she didn't care if she would be dead with shame and heartbreak come tomorrow morning.

Because he was _there_, and for whatever reason, he was holding her in his arms, and she could hear his voice and feel his breath against her skin and his warmth against her body and that was suddenly _enough_.

It was enough for now.

It was enough forever.

"I'll stay," came his answer, and a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Kiss him already, Sakura-chan!" Naruto's familiar voice suddenly boomed across the courtyard, interrupting the moment.

Sakura turned to see him outside, on the balcony, leaning over the edge, more than a dozen other familiar people cramped in beside him, all huddled together to watch the scene with happy eyes.

She huffed an incredulous breath.

Slowly, Sasuke, probably feeling the death grip she'd had on him loosening, allowed her to slide down his body until her feet were sinking in the cold, thick layer of snow covering the ground.

"I would have asked Sasuke-teme to do it, but come on, we all know he's a coward!"

Sounds of agreement followed his statement, and Sakura barked out an incredulous laugh as she continued to watch them carefully.

They'd _known_. They'd _all_ known. They'd all known he was coming back to her, and they'd kept her in the dark to give her the best Christmas of her life.

Turning around, tears still in her eyes, Sakura stood on her tiptoes just as Sasuke swept down, their lips meeting halfway, one seeking to boost up the happiness that could already barely fit inside her, the other to rise to a challenge—but they met and instantly engaged in the same dance, in perfect synchrony, and unexpectedly became lost, completely and without a trace, in each other.

Somewhere in the distance, vaguely, less and less intensely, Sakura heard cheers and catcalls.

But all she could really feel were Sasuke's lips on hers. All she could feel were his arms around her waist, the thick material of his cloak under her hand, his surprisingly soft hair between her fingers. All she could smell was his scent and all she could really do was get lost in his warmth. Nothing mattered in the world right then, nothing other than the two of them.

And who could really blame her?

That was the way it had always been.

* * *

><p><strong>Date: 2512/2o14**

**A/N: **Some angst as a Christmas present, because why not? We love this couple and the truth is that they do angst like no other!

I didn't find a place to explain this in the actual story, but, basically, the rationale behind it was that Sasuke returned to have his arm replaced when he knew Sakura wasn't there because he wasn't done with his journey and he wanted to be a changed man completely when he came back to her.

Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions!

**Merry Christmas, everybody! :)**


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